Tomorrow we head to Connecticut for a visit with my fam, where we'll end up having the inevitable "but you grew up in such a beautiful, serene slice of New England wilderness. How did you end up so crazy?" conversation. Well, chickadee, this is what happens when you spend your adolescence going "camping" with a sleeping bag from 1974 and a tupperware container full of gin. And maybe some Twizzlers. And maybe once you fell in the fire and forgot how to stop-drop-and-roll in your drunken terror, but luckily it was so gd cold out, they just pushed you into some partially frozen leaves and everything ended up ok except for having to hide a slightly singed London Fog coat. Sorry, Bob Biscuits.
Reno is going to pick us up in her Jeep Wrangler. I'm gonna see if I can get her to blast Metallica and do donuts in the airport parking lot. Doubtful, but one can dream.
But seriously, I know lots of people like to imagine that where they grew up is some sort of utopia because of their great memories with family and friends, blah blah, but hi, who are you kidding? You grew up in a split ranch in a subdivision, not here:
I can't wait to be there.
1 comment:
I'm coming home in November after 15 months of being in India. I can't fucking wait!!!!! Have an amazing time.
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